What in bread's name
by squiresteve
Summary: Officer Poisson and Officer Chaise-Lounge want to impress Inspector Javert (suggestive clicking noise)


Two police officers sat solemly on a brick wall, the perimeter of a marketplace. Both stumpy and bored, they held their fresh baguettes in silence as the man on the left, Officer Poisson, broke his oversized breadstick into small pieces before throwing them to bloated pigeons, and the man of the right, Officer Chaise-Lounge, munched his from the top down.  
"Do you wanna try an apple tart tomorrow?" Poisson asked.  
"But the pigeons love baguettes so much."  
"We could buy both?"  
"I might get a stomach ache though."  
Emaciated orphans eyed the food longingly, while one, a little girl no older than seven, lunged herself at the bread crumbs just as they hit the cobblestones, wrestling with the feasting pigeons for a few scraps.  
"Uh, mademoiselle, I believe I was throwing those to the pigeons."  
"Bread thieves starting out early, I see."  
"If there's one thing I'm sick of, it's bread thieves."  
"I bet your whole family is bread thieves."  
"I bet you'll be adopted by a kind bread thief."  
"As they say: you can take the girl out of the bread thieves-"  
They spoke in unison. "But you can't take the bread thief out of the girl."  
The little girl, in tears, ran to the shadows.  
"Yeah, run away."  
"The nerve."  
"Let's go arrest her."  
"That's just sick, Poisson."  
"I was just joking!"  
"Mmmmhm."  
Poisson took a bite nonchantly and chewed slowly, while Chaise-Lounge stared forward, slouching, and throwing bread crumbs. He wasn't looking at the pigeons, so he accidentally threw crumbs in a woman's eyes.  
"Poison?"  
"It's Poisson."  
"Poisson?"  
"Chaise-Lounge?"  
"I really wanna impress Inspector."  
"What? Inspector?"  
"You heard me."  
"But he's like, a really bad person."  
"Yeah, he's just so mad all the time. I think with just a little bit of pushing I could bring some sunshine into the old man's life."  
"That didn't sound how you wanted it to sound but that's okay."  
"I think if I showed him what I'm worth, I could, hmm-" Chaise-Lounge paused, smirking. "We could get..." He made a clicking sound. "You know."  
"A promotion?"  
"A promotion."  
Poisson considered his options. He wrinkled his eyebrow a few times. "Well how are we gonna do that?"  
"Well I was thinking... you know that guy he's always after?"  
"24601?"  
"Yeah, wow. How did you know the number?"  
"It just flows."  
"Yeah, well-" Chaise-Lounge scanned the area to see if anyone was listening. "If you haven't noticed, there's a lot of bread in this town... I bet you anything he might be hanging around."  
"It makes sense, I mean, the most infamous bread thief in France... now that he's been loose he's going in for the kill. Just like how serial killers are always in big cities."  
"Now what in bread's name is a serial killer?"  
"Well, I for one like your plan. I say we make some observations."  
"Undercover?!" Chaise-Lounge stood excitedly.  
"Undercover."

* * *

"Excuse me, uh, kind saleswoman we've never seen,"  
"We are very poor,"  
"We have lots of children-"  
"Not together!"  
"May we please have some bread for free? See how very poor we are."  
"Very very poor."  
The old bread saleslady frowned at the two incognito officers from behind her small cart. "Boys, I'm very disappointed in you. First you steal ponchos from homeless people and wear them to look poor, then you ask for free bread after you've arrested half of my family over the course of five years? You pay your fair share every day because you know I need that money for my medicine. Now please buy something or step away from my bread cart."  
"We actually didn't know about the medicine."  
"Step away, I said!"  
She turned to a muscular, yet malnourished, bearded man to her left. She handed him a loaf. "I am so sorry these men cut you in line. Please send my condolences to your children."  
The man smiled. "Thank you very much. It is very strange for all three of them and my wife to become ill at the same time. Thank goodness they have me to care for them." He coughed. "I promise to repay you, madame."  
"Don't worry about it, Monsieur Valchamp! Care for your family!'  
The man's eyes welled up with tears as he started away. "God bless you."  
Poisson and Chaise-Lounge exchanged glances quickly. Their eyes glimmered with excitement. Chaise-Lounge grabbed the shoulder of the now-departing man.  
"Kind woman, please restate this man's name."  
She scrambled around her cart. "Boys, what is your problem today?!"  
"M'sieur, may you state your name?"  
He gulped. "Valchamp."  
"And your first name."  
"Champ. I am called Champ Valchamp."  
Chaise-Lounge's eyes widened as he shot a glance toward Poisson, whispering "it's him." Poisson pushed Chaise-Lounge away and grabbed both of the man's shoulders. The man was extremely frightened at this point.  
"So, you thought you could pull the old 'three dying children' trick, did you?!"  
"My children are not dying, officer, they are ill."  
"Oh yeah, 'cause that always turns out so well."  
"What do you want from me, officer?!"  
"Are you or are you not a criminal?!"  
"I never did no wrong!"  
"I should have expected you to lie..." Poisson thought for a moment. "Say a number!"  
"Uh-"  
"No time! First number that comes to your head!"  
"I don't-"  
"I bet you were gonna say 24601! I bet you anything!"  
"Please, if you are going to arrest me, let me deliver this food to my family. All our debts are payed, please."  
"Yeah, you would say that. Naw, we know you're a sneaky one."  
The old bread lady, in tears, came forward. "What is the meaning of this, boys?!"  
Poisson smiled. "Have no fear, strange woman. For we have caught a very dangerous criminal who broke his parole many years ago and has been at large ever since. This scumbag was actually stealing bread from you the whole time."  
"But I gave him that bread for free!"  
Both raised their fingers. "Ah-ha!"  
"Boys, no!" she cried.  
Chaise-Lounge interjected. "Well now that we'll be on the Inspector's good side... let's just say…" He clicked again. "You won't be calling us boys any more..."  
"Next time you see us we'll have..." Poisson clicked the same way. "Better jobs..."  
"What a sweet-" He clicked. "-Promotion we're gonna get!"  
The officers high-fived. They walked Valchamp towards the police station.  
"Carry on, kind citizens."  
"Yeah and don't steal nothin'."

* * *

"Well... here we are."  
"Takin' this big man... to the big man."  
"And you know why they call Inspector the big man..."  
"He's 6 feet tall!"  
"I thought he was 5'11."  
"Naw man, 6 feet."  
Poisson gulped. Chaise-Lounge gulped. For they stood outside the door of all doors. In dark mahogany, this door was over 6 feet tall so its user could walk through it without bumping his noggin. In dark, sexy mahogany, the door had those little square panels that nice doors have carved into them, or in some cases, as this one, popping out. And just above eye-level, in gilded glory, read the name of all names, Inspector Javert.  
"So, umm..." Poisson hesitated. "Nose goes has to knock!"  
The inspectors put their fingers on their noses in unison.  
"I didn't catch the winner, did you?"  
"I think I won."  
"Let's try again."  
Poisson put his finger to his nose while Chaise-Lounge paused for a second and did the same.  
"Ha! You have to knock, you have to knock!"  
"No fair I wasn't paying attention!"  
"Nose goes, it's the name of the game!"  
"I think the game's actually nose doesn't go so you should probably knock."  
"Chaise-Lounge."  
"Don't be accusatory!"  
"Chaise-Lounge..."  
"Fine, I'll knock." He swallowed. "Here it goes."  
Chaise-Lounge knocked in the rhythm of the Green Acres theme song. They waited in sweaty silence for what felt like seven hours until a low, husky, grumbly, kind, soft, inviting, exciting voice resonated from the other side of the door. "Benoit. You silly devil. You know I hate Green Acres."  
"Wait, who's Benoit?"  
"What."  
The door opened quickly, as the Inspector, angry yet flustered refastened the buttons at the top of his jacket. He squinted. "Poisson and Chaise-Lounge."  
"Hey, he is 5'11! I told you..."  
"What do you want."  
Chaise-Lounge stepped forward, avoiding eye contact. "Well, uh, sir. We came here to tell you that, uh, we found the criminal you're after, uh," He thought quickly, "24602!"  
Javert sighed, disappointed, "Oh. The mass murderer."  
Chaise-Lounge gasped, "I mean 24601, the bread thief!"  
"WHAT."  
"Yep, we did..."  
"WHAT."  
"I know..."  
"You must promise me. You are telling the truth and not joking."  
"Yep, Champ Valchamp himself," Poisson laughed. "Tried to play the ole 'dying children' trick on a bread lady!"  
Javert blinked about forty thousand times. "Excuse me."  
"Well she's not a lady made of bread! She sells bread... Nice lady!"  
"No fools. His name."  
"Oh, he's called Champ Valchamp."  
Javert began breathing heavily, growing very angry and sweaty. He wringed his hands, like they were made of clay and he was shaping them into fists. "I think you mean Jean. JEAN VALJEAN."  
"Yeah, that's what we said! CHAMP VALCHAMP."  
"Are you raising your tone."  
"Sorry..."  
The Inspector sighed, taking a pause as an intimidation technique. He wringed his hands again, this time cracking his knuckles. He blinked at least another eight hundred times. "Well. If you have found the right man." Javert, eyes aglare, looked to Poisson, then to Chaise-Lounge, then to Poisson, and then to Chaise-Lounge. "Where is he."  
The two officers looked to the space between them, where there was supposed to be a convict. They laughed awkwardly. "I guess we should have chained him up..."  
"That would be wise."  
"We should go..."  
"Yes."  
Poisson and Chaise-Lounge sprinted down the hallway, calling after Valchamp like a lost puppy. As they exited the building, Javert sighed to himself. "Worst brothers ever."


End file.
